


Refuge at St. James

by penning_feminist



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:33:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28199199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penning_feminist/pseuds/penning_feminist
Summary: We follow Nancy in the events of the Season 3 finale, as she comes to terms with Margaret's absence and her developing relationship with Lady Fitz.
Relationships: Nancy Birch & Isabella Fitzwilliam, Nancy Birch/Isabella Fitzwilliam, Nancy Birch/Margaret Wells
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I liked the Season 3 finale, but I felt that that Nancy's story skipped some important steps. In particular, the jump from her near-shootout with Hal Pincer to the salon at St. James seemed like a leap of faith without any development in between.  
> So I wrote this to fill in the gaps, as well as elaborating on the scenes themselves.  
> I will probably make this the beginning of a series that follows Nancy and Isabella.

“So be it.” Harcourt turned and retreated up the stone steps. Neither woman moved until he disappeared into the woods.

As he vanished from view, Nancy sighed. “She’ll come around, once she drops that scum.”

Isabella seemed distressed as she turned to face her companion. “I don’t know if I can take the wait.” She smoothed a wrinkle in her dress. “I don’t know what to do with myself, Nancy.”

Nancy smiled sadly. “All pain eases with time. Go home, end this day. The world may look brighter tomorrow.”

“Where will you be going?”

Nancy smirked. “I’ll come with you, if you’d like. See you get home alright.”

The two women crossed the park green and climbed into Isabella’s waiting carriage. Once inside its safety, their eyes met in relief. After a long silence, Isabella spoke.

“Thank you for coming with me, Nancy. I do hope it wasn’t awkward for you.”

Nancy smiled and shook her head. “Only the ride over, m’lady.”

“And my sincerest apologies for all that. I don’t know what came over me last night.” The carriage bounced over a rut in the road.

“Grief makes us do strange things.” Nancy reached forward and rested her hand on Isabella’s knee. “You’re mourning your beloved.”

“As are you.”

She nodded. “I loved Charlotte like my own.”

Isabella's face softened. “Nancy… I think we understand each other.” Her meaning was clear.

Nancy sat up and contemplated the implication. “Perhaps we do. There’s more to all of us than meets the eye, isn’t there?” She chuckled. “We may be more alike than it seems.” Despite her laughter, her expression grew somber. “And neither in any state for high hopes.”

Isabella nodded and broke their eye contact.

The rest of the ride was taken in silence.

The awkwardness was only broken by their arrival at St. James. The footman helped Isabella out of the carriage. She turned to Nancy. “Would you stay, just for a moment?”

Nancy waved away the footman’s hand as she stepped onto the ground. She smiled and nodded. “For a moment.”

Once inside the parlor, Isabella sighed and leaned against the mantle, seeming defeated. Nancy spoke quietly, leaning on the doorframe. “You’ll survive this.”

Isabella did not look up.

“Sophia will come ‘round. She has a brain.”

Isabella shook her head and stood back. “I’m weary of simply surviving.”

Nancy spoke with more intensity in her voice. “Don’t buckle.” She stepped across the tile toward Isabella. “Not for your brother, or anyone.”

As she met Nancy’s gaze, Isabella’s expression became disoriented, as it had when Charlotte first kissed her in Golden Square. She rested a hand on her bodice, as if to offer herself some support.

Nancy nodded and quietly left Isabella alone.

They did not meet again that day.

Nancy returned to Greek Street to find Cherry Dorrington reclining in the doorway. The young woman smiled broadly. “I’m chasing after your job, Nancy Birch.”

Nancy laughed. “I wish you the best of luck, Cherry.” She patted her on the back. “Might be time for me to retire.”

“Fann’s inside with the books.”

Nancy nodded and entered the house to find Fanny in the kitchen. “Afternoon, Fann.”

Fanny looked up from her books. “Afternoon. How was the lady?”

“She's alright.” She chewed her bottom lip. “That daughter will be the end of her, though.” Nancy leaned over Fanny’s shoulder and flipped through several pages of the ledger. “We’ve done well this week. We’ll do even better with Cherry hawking our stock.”

Fanny turned to Nancy. “And you’re alright with that?”

Nancy tapped her cane against her boot. “For a while, at least. Been thinking I might retire for good. You’ve been running the house, anyway.”

Fanny contemplated the prospect. “If that’s what you want, Nance.” She grinned. “Greek Street would miss you.”

“Greek Street isn’t my home, Fann.”

Fanny smirked. “Where is?”

It was a harmless jest, but Nancy felt an unexpected catch in her throat. She paused. “I’m exhausted, Fann. You wouldn’t mind if I rest upstairs for a moment?” As Nancy walked to the stairs, Fanny moved to answer a knock at the door. After a brief conversation, Emily Lacey rushed into the foyer.

“Nancy!” She grabbed the wall for support. “Nancy! Hal is coming for you!”

Nancy ambled back down the steps to face Emily. “What does he want with me?”

Emily couldn’t meet her gaze. “Told him you were there when Issac died.” She shuddered. “He forced it out of me.”

Nancy stiffened, speaking sharply. “You- you beggarly slut.” She glared at Emily. “How many times have I put my neck on the block for you?” _You’ve damned us both._

“I didn’t tell him you fired the gun,” Emily responded, desperately. “He thinks Mrs. Wells did!”

“Oh, Emily.” Fanny sat down, her head in her hands. Cherry looked on with a frightened interest.

Emily grew increasingly distressed. “He wouldn’t hurt you. I’ll talk to him.” She looked from Nancy to Fanny. “We can keep the peace.”

Nancy’s voice grew grave as she looked Emily in the eye. “If he’s coming for me, you’re going to have to pick a side.”

Emily only nodded.

At dusk, Nancy left Greek Street for a breath of fresh air. She felt frustrated and powerless: Emily Lacey had turned against them, and Hal knew that Nancy killed his brother. It seemed that her own life was slipping from her grasp. Snapping back to reality, Nancy found herself at the threshold of the Saracen’s Head. Some unknown force compelled her to enter.

The tavern was dimly lit, humming with the din of low conversation. Nancy’s vision blurred, and she became lightheaded. It was as if she was an outside observer, watching the scene unfold.

Hal Pincer was leaning against the bar. Nancy couldn’t think straight. _You killed my Charlotte_.

Nancy drew Margaret’s muff pistol from her pocket. _You killed my Charlotte._

She yelled his name. _You killed my Charlotte._

Chairs clattered as patrons jumped back. The blood pounded in Nancy’s ears. _You killed my Charlotte._

Hal stepped back and drew a gun from behind the bar. _You killed my Charlotte_.

The pair circled each other. _You killed my Charlotte_.

“You killed my brother.” _You killed my Charlotte._

“You killed my Charlotte.” Both trembled as they prepared for the inevitable. “And you’ll kill again, I know it. This bullet stops you.”

Hal raised his chin to Nancy. “One shot each.”

Emily threw open the tavern door, followed by William North. She stepped between Hal and Nancy.

Nancy watched from afar as Emily said something she didn’t understand. _You killed my Charlotte._ “Emily, this isn't your fight!” _What is she saying?_

Emily yelled again. “Everyone just stay on their side of the line!”

Nancy could not back down, not now. “For fuck’s sake, are you blind?” _You killed my Charlotte_.

Emily and Hal continued to speak. Nancy’s vision whirled in and out of focus at a nauseating pace. Hal lowered the gun. Emily yelled to the assembled crowd. “Now get out of our tavern!”

William North placed a hand on Nancy’s raised arm. “Don’t… throw your life away.”

Nancy looked at Will and took in the reality of the situation. How close she could have been to death. _Charlotte is dead._ She took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed. _Mags is as good as dead._ Nancy turned and stepped toward the tavern door. _I have no one._

Once they were out of the tavern, Will put his arm around Nancy. He leaned down and studied her expression. “Are you alright to go home, Nance?”

Nancy looked up at him, a solitary tear flowing down her cheek. “Where’s that, Will?”

“Come back to Greek Street tonight. You shouldn't be alone in your state.” He began to lead her down the street. “You’ll be alright.”

The streets were dark and eerily silent. As their boots echoed on the cobbles, Nancy struggled to maintain her composure. The levee broke the moment they entered the kitchen at Greek Street. Nancy crumpled, defeated, into a chair. She held her head in her hands and wept tears of frustration and sadness. Will sat next to her, not touching her. He knew that some tears must be shed alone.

Nancy turned to him, eyes wide. As she whispered, she trembled. “I loved Mags, Will.”

He nodded and smiled sadly. “I know, Nance. I loved her too.”

“You have Lucy, and Jacob. I have no one.” Nancy leaned into Will and sobbed. His own tears began to fall as well.

“Nance, look at us. We’re a mess.”

Nancy wiped her face with her sleeve. “Sleep won’t cure this one.”

Will rose from his seat. “A drink might help us through the night, though.” He retrieved a bottle of gin from a shelf and poured them each a glass.

“To Mags,” Nancy said as she raised her glass, a waver still in her voice. “A proper minx if there ever was one.”

Will nodded. “To Mags.”

The pair remained in the kitchen for hours. They drank profusely, cried often, and rarely conversed. As morning neared, Nancy succumbed to a fitful sleep on a chaise. She dreamed of Mags. Days they’d spent together, days she’d wished they’d spent together, and everything that could never be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rough night, Nancy finds herself at St. James.

Awoken far too soon by the first rays of dawn peeking through the parlor curtains, Nancy sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her head was pounding, and she felt a hollow pang in her chest. Rising, she straightened her clothes, picked up her birch, and re-adorned her tricorne. In the kitchen, she poured one more glass of gin to dull her grief. Slipping out of Greek Street quietly, Nancy avoided any encounters with Will or anyone else. She had bared her soul to far too many people yesterday and did not wish to be reminded of any of it.

Nancy ambled toward Covent Garden, stumbling occasionally. The sun seemed too bright, and all the sounds of the city made her head hurt. 

As she neared the street, she was distracted by a crowd that had gathered in an alleyway. The stranger’s whispers caught her ear as she approached.

“Found him just as the sun come up,” one woman said.

A older man responded. “Robbed?”

“Looks like it.”

Nancy shouldered her way through the crowd, her bully reputation parting a path. The Marquess of Blayne lay dead in the dirt. 

Nancy gasped, feeling faint. Perhaps it was just the drink. She turned to the crowd. “Has the law heard of this yet?”

The bystanders looked to one another and shook their heads.

“You there.” She awkwardly pointed to the man nearest her. “Find Justice Knox. I’ll inform ‘is next of kin.” Nancy’s speech was slightly slurred.

A woman took Nancy's arm. “Are you alright, ma’am? You seem a bit… unsteady.”

_ A brave one, this one. _ “I’m alright.” She waved the woman’s hand away. “Jus’some gin. I’ll be alright.” She staggered away from the scene.

Nancy’s gait wobbled as she approached Isabellas’ St. James home. She leaned against the door as she knocked, and nearly fell when it was opened inward by a servant.

“Nancy Birch,” she said, taking a breath to steady herself, “T’see the Lady Fitz.”

As Nancy entered the house, the room began to swim. The servant took her arm, and Nancy relented and leaned into his support. He guided her down the hallway to the grand staircase.

“The Lady is in her chambers. Are you alright on the stairs, madam?”

Nancy stood with her hands on her knees. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a moment.” As she stepped onto the first step, she stumbled and caught herself on the railing. “Perhaps I could use some ‘elp.”  _ The damn gin hasn’t left me yet. Can’t think straight. _

The servant steadied Nancy as she shuffled up the steps. The colors of the wallpaper were far too vibrant, and the pounding in her ears was painfully loud.  _ I have to talk to her. _

After a particularly arduous flight of stairs, they arrived at the door to Isabella’s rooms. “I can make it from ‘ere,'' Nancy said, waving the servant away. “Thank you, though.”

He nodded and left.

Nancy knocked on the ornately carved door, leaning on the wall to catch her breath.

Isabella called out from the other side. “Just a moment!”

“It’s Nance.”

“Nancy?” There was a shuffling sound within the room. “Come in, then.”

Nancy slowly opened the door and stepped into the chamber. Isabella approached her, dressed no further than her stays. 

Nancy stumbled back.  _ Hello, woman. _ She steadied herself with her cane.

“Let me help you, Nance. Are you alright?” Isabella offered her arm to Nancy. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Sit down.” She turned to the maid standing in the corner, where the rest of her clothes were draped. “Leave us, please.”

As the maid closed the door, Nancy slumped onto the chaise. Isabella sat down next to her.

“Isabella.” Nancy took a breath. “You’re brother’s dead.”

Isabella’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “What happened?”

“He was found’n an alleyway, dead an’ robbed.” Nancy took Isabella’s hands in hers. The room undulated. “I’m so sorry, love.”  _ Fuck. I’m not thinking. _

“Nance,” Isabella’s eyes widened. “I always thought I’d be sad if anything happened to him, despite everything.”

Nancy met her gaze. “And you’re not?”

Isabella gripped Nancy’s hands tighter. “Not one bit. I’m shocked,” She leaned in and wrapped her arms around Nancy. “But I’m relieved.”

In her stupor, Nancy never thought to recoil from her embrace. She relaxed into Isabella’s arms and looked into her eyes. _Lovely eyes._ _Blue._ Her head pounded. “Hello, love.”

“Are you alright, Nance?” Isabella leaned back, her brow wrinkled with concern. “You’re not acting like yourselft.”

“I’m jus’fine, m’lady.” Nancy blinked slowly. Impulsively, she sat up and hooked two fingers into the front of Isabella’s stays. As Nancy pulled her closer, Isabella seemed to be reading Nancy’s eyes.

Their lips met as Nancy’s arm wrapped around Isabella’s back. Nancy felt as if she were in a daze. Isabella’s mouth was warm, her hand on Nancy’s collarbone light. Her hair, not yet tied up, fell onto both of them. The chaise was soft and plush underneath.

Isabella pulled away, chest heaving. Nancy’s eyes, wild, studied the woman next to her.

Nancy hiccuped.  _ I’m not alone. _ She glanced at the elegant four-poster bed only a few feet away from them.  _ Could we?  _ When she turned back to Isabella, her face flushed. Nancy opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t summon any words.

“Nance?” Isabella had followed her gaze, and took Nancy's hands into her own. “Are you… crocked… at all?”

_ What do I want?  _ “I’ve ‘ad… a nip of gin.” She looked to the bed again. “I’m fine, love.” She leaned in for another kiss, but Isabella pulled back.

“Nancy Birch!” She exclaimed, laughing. “You’re as drunk as a lord!”

“I’d do th’same when I’m not, love.”  _ Please. _

Isabella rested her hands on Nancy’s arms. “I would never want to hurt you.”

_ Please _ . Nancy’s eyes were desperate with lust. “Please.”

Isabella shook her head and smiled. “I would, Nancy. But it’d not be right. Not now. Not like this.”

_ Please.  _ Nancy’s vision swam again, and nausea overtook her. Isabella continued to hold her hand as she retched onto the white tile. Eyes downcast, Nancy sat up. Liquid ran down the front of her stays. “I’ve really botched it now.”

Isabella rubbed her back. “Not at all, Nance. Let me call a maid to clean you up, get you dressed. You can rest here today.” As she stood, Nancy grasped the back of her shift.

“No.” She shook her head, eyes wide in drunken fear. “I can’t stand a stranger touching me. Not in this state. I’ll do it myself.” As Nancy stood, she nearly swooned. Isabella caught her with one arm around her waist, and guided Nancy’s arm around her shoulders. She guided Nancy to a water basin across the room.

“Let me help you, then. I can deal with Harcourt’s affairs later.”

Nancy nodded as she sat down, her breathing labored. “I’m so sorry, love.”

Isabella rubbed Nancy’s shoulder soothingly. “You’ll be alright, Nance.” She reached for the rag in the basin. “Probably won’t even remember this.” Their eyes met in the mirror. “I’m going to unlace your stays. Is that alright?”

Nancy nodded. She stiffened as Isabella’s hands traveled slowly down her back. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Isabella paused. “I can stop, if you’d like.”

Nancy shook her head. “It’s not you.”

Isabella nodded and continued. “You can take it off, now.” Nancy handed her stays to Isabella, who placed them on the floor. She handed the rag to Nancy. “Your stays took the worst of it. No need to clean the rest of your clothes.”

Nancy sighed with relief as she wiped her face. “I’ve acted like a fool.” She discarded her boots.

Isabella shook her head and smiled. “Grief makes us do strange things, doesn't it? I suppose we’re even.” Nancy removed her tricorne as she was guided toward the bed. “You can rest as long as you need.”

“Will you stay? Just until I’m asleep?”  _ Please don’t let me be alone. _

“Of course, Nance.” As Nancy laid down, Isabella sat next to her. “Until you’re sound asleep.” She held Nancy’s head in her lap, stroking her hair.

_ Oh. _ Nancy melted into her touch. She looked up at her companion. “I nearly shot Hal Pincer last night. Would’ve, if Will hadn’t stopped me.”

Isabella laughed lightly, still caressing Nancy's hair. “Do you always come here after a gunfight?”

Nancy’s eyes began to close. “Suppose the company’s alright.”

Waiting for Nancy’s breath to slow, Isabella contemplated the events of the day. First, her brother had been found dead. Robbed, but she suspected that foul play was involved. Not that she cared.

Second, she was his next of kin.  _ No, _ she thought.  _ His son. _ His son! Henry Harcourt would fall into her care, if she would have him.  _ No, _ she thought again.  _ He has Anne,  _ who had been so heartbroken to give him up.

Nancy had fallen into a peaceful slumber. Careful not to disturb her, Isabella slipped out of the bed. As she dressed, she continued in her thoughts.

Yes, she would send someone to find Anne Pettifer.  _ I’ll offer them sanctuary here, of course. _

Her mind turned to what was, somehow, the most bizarre happening of the morning. Nancy Birch had showed up at her door, kissed her, and tried to take her to bed. _Well,_ she thought. _She_ was _nearly dead drunk. And missing her love._ _I suppose we are alike._ Tightening her jacket, Isabella considered a suddenly prying thought: _If I had been crocked, would I have done the same?_

She shook the thought from her head and quietly exited her chamber.

Nancy’s sleep, though sound, was not empty. She dreamt of her home in Covent Garden.

_ Nancy sat alone at the table, tapping her boot against the floor. The door creaked open, and Mags seemed to float into the room.  _

_ “I’ve missed you, Nance,” she said, moving weightlessly to sit in Nancy’s lap. “I love you, you know.” She leaned forward and kissed Nancy’s forehead. _

Nancy shuddered in her sleep. She often had dreams like this, where Mags would confess her love, and concede to Nancy's deepest desires. They always left her feeling more alone than before.

_ Margaret began to unbutton Nancy's jacket. “I heard you’ve someone else to do this now, hm?” _

_ Nancy shook her head. “I don’t love her, Mags. Not the way I loved you.” Her hands, moving on their own, unlaced Margeret’s stays. _

_ Mags clucked her tongue as Nancy’s jacket fell to the floor. “But you could. You’re much the same.” She leaned back, placing her hands on Nancy's shoulders. “I think you might already.” _

_ “I couldn’t bare myself to anyone again. Anyone but you, Mags.” She pressed her lips to Margeret’s collarbone. _

_ “With time, perhaps.” Margaret leaned in to kiss Nancy again. Her lips were warm and soothing. “If you do love her, you must tell her, you know.”  _

_ “I kissed her today.” _

_ Margaret responded as she let her stays slip away. “I know.” _

_ “Wanted to tup her, but she wouldn’t.” _

_ “She might’ve, if you weren't slurring like a drunkard.” Nimbly, her hands untied Nancy’s collar. _

_ Nancy looked into her eyes. “Would I have done it, if I’d been sober enough to stand?” _

_ “Perhaps not today. But with time…” Margaret removed Nancy's blouse. “You might not love her yet, but you will. And you can’t let her slip away in the meantime.” She winked and kissed Nancy again. “She’s certainly taken a shine to you.” _

_ Nancy struggled to think of a response. She blinked for a moment too long, and Margaret vanished. _

Nancy awoke with a familiar hollow ache. Her head, albeit heavy, was clear. She slowly stood, testing her stability. The clouds over her vision had left, and the room stood still. Walking to the grand windows, she was warmed by the late afternoon sun.

_ Must’ve been asleep for hours. _ She stretched her arms over her head.  _ Did me good, though.  _ Nancy retrieved her stays from their resting place beside the water basin. Someone had cleaned them. As Nancy laced her stays, she couldn’t help but reflect. Her memories of the morning were hazy, but accounted for.

_Did I really kiss the lady_? Nancy supposed she did. _Did I try to get her in bed?_ She chuckled at the notion. _I might’ve._ Pulling on her boots, Nancy pondered the questions of her dream. She certainly didn’t think she loved Isabella. _At least not sober. But could I?_ _I certainly blunder enough when I’m around ‘er._

Donning her tricorne, Nancy strode towards the door.  _ Might as well talk with ‘er. _

She left her birch behind.

Nancy found Isabella in the parlor, speaking with Anne Pettifer. Baby Henry slept in his mother’s arms. Nancy stood in the doorway until Isabella invited her to enter. Anne, grinning at her son, left the room.

“Nancy!” Isabella’s warm smile lit up the room. “I’m glad you’ve dried out.”

Nancy stood and faced Isabella. She cleared her throat. As she raised her head to speak, no words presented themselves.

Instead, Nancy stepped forward until the space between the two women had nearly disappeared. She let out a heavy breath.

Before she could change her mind, Nancy placed one hand at the nape of Isabella's neck and pulled her into a deep kiss. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt Isabella’s hands travel to the small of her back and weave into her hair. Nancy felt the seconds lengthen as she kissed Isabella’s jaw.

Isabella stepped back, breathless. Nancy took her hand. When she spoke, her voice nearly broke.

“I need to talk to you.”

Isabella nodded, eyes wide. “Let’s sit, then.”

Hands still connected, the women sat together on a chaise. Nancy spoke first.

“I’m not sure if I love you.” Nancy quickly shook her head. “No. That’s not what I meant.” She took a deep breath. “I think I love you. Or, at least I could. But I don’t know that I’m ready… right now…” She trailed off. “I think I love you. But I’m not ready to jump in bed with you.” Her voice became desperate. “No, that came out wrong-”

“Nance.” Isabella interrupted her. “I understand.” She squeezed Nancy's hand. “We’re both in mourning. I would never want to hurt you.”

Nancy met her gaze. “I’d like to be with you. I just might take a minute to come ‘round.”

Isabella smiled. “Don’t fret, Nance. You’ve been clear enough.” She laughed. “You might not remember, but you’re a  _ very  _ forward drunk.” Nancy turned red and averted her eyes.

“I remember most of it, I think.” She grinned slightly. “Might’ve been more fun sober.”

Isabella laughed. “We’ll try it again sometime. You’re more than welcome to stay here in the meantime.”

“I’d been thinking I might retire.” Nancy sighed and leaned back. “I could get used to a classy place like this.” 

She met Isabella's eyes and smiled. “Could get used to the classy company, too.”

The subsequent weeks passed without incident. Nancy and Isabella shared kisses often, and retired to separate rooms at night.

Following her brother’s death, Isabella established St. James as a refuge for women from all walks of life. She held salons, discussing the issues encountered by every woman in the city. The house was never empty, between Anne and Nancy living in the guest quarters, and the constant parade of women reclining and taking tea in the parlors.

Nancy often stayed away from these gatherings. She had never been good at idle conversation. Many times she approached the door to enter, but was held back by her own inhibitions.

Today was one such day. Nancy stood on the threshold of the parlor, scanning the room. Her lady floated through the crowd, drink in hand.

As Isabella raised her head, their eyes met. She glanced at two elegant chairs in a quiet corner.

_ It’s now or never. _ She steeled herself and stepped into the room. Nancy fixed her eyes on the woman who awaited her, weaving past waiters and guests.

As she sat with incredible grace, Isabella turned her gaze to Nancy.

Nancy settled into her throne and smiled.  _ I could get used to this. _

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere, so any feedback/suggestions would be appreciated!


End file.
